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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856620">At a Distance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaagna/pseuds/evaagna'>evaagna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>3:10 to Yuma (2007)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fantasizing, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Staring, Threats of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaagna/pseuds/evaagna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie swallows heavily around an image—those chapped lips against his; that soft, brown beard scratching across his cheek; one large, warm hand at his hip, the other tangling roughly in his hair; blunt teeth nipping at his own mouth, or maybe at his throat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Prince/Ben Wade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At a Distance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you asked him, he’d deny it—say he had no idea what you were on about, and maybe even put a bullet in your gut for the trouble.</p><p>But Charlie Prince is most definitely staring at Ben Wade from across the fire. Most specifically, he’s staring at Ben Wade’s lips. Hell, he isn’t even trying that hard to hide it.</p><p>The man himself is, of course, magnetic, and Charlie is like as not to be looking at him under any normal circumstances. But earlier, when they'd all only just been settling in and pulling out what provisions they had for the night, he'd happened to glance over just as Ben was setting back down his flask, and suddenly Charlie found himself caught watching Ben's throat swallow around the cheap liquor. He followed the motion up, just in time to catch Ben's tongue dart out to wet sun-dry lips. And his gaze's been stuck there ever since. </p><p>If he was feeling especially fanciful—which Charlie isn’t—he might blame the firelight or maybe the day's heat for causing this particular distraction. But regardless of the cause, he can't seem to take his eyes off those lips, framed by Ben's neat moustache. They occasionally purse around the mouth of his whiskey flask, but otherwise linger in an intent frown aimed down at the sketch he’s been working at in the dim light. He spares a brief strain of thought to wonder what Ben’s drawing and if he ought to ask or if it's best to leave things be. </p><p>It's best to leave things be, of course; almost always is. But Charlie never claimed to be any good at doing what's best. </p><p>He's aware of the noises around him, people shifting, chatting idly, going about their nightly business, but he can't bring himself to snap out of it. Instead he swallows heavily around an image—those chapped lips against his; that soft, brown beard scratching across his cheek; one large, warm hand at his hip, the other tangling roughly in his hair; blunt teeth nipping at his own mouth, or maybe at his throat.</p><p>He feels his throat bob again, his mouth watering at the thought. His own lips part, almost involuntarily, and his tongue slips out to wet them. What he really wants is to see those lips stretched around his cock. He tells himself there’s a sliver of hope that that someday just might happen—except, there’s not. He's smart enough to know that just won't go his way,  though. No matter Charlie wants, surely asking Ben Wade to get on his knees for him is going too far.</p><p>Someone coughs, or maybe <em> ahem</em>s—none too subtly, either way—and Charlie’s eyes flick to the side. Jackson is sat beside Sutherland, just a ways to Ben’s left, and his stare is stuck on Charlie, expression twisted down in reprehension.</p><p>That look makes Charlie see red. He shoots up a little straighter where he’s been leaning. “What you lookin’ at, Jackson?” he snaps.</p><p>“What’re <em> you </em> lookin’ at?” Jackson huffs in return, his brow raised like he thinks Charlie’s finally lost it.</p><p>The look on his face says, <em> again? </em> and Charlie has a sudden flash of a night (very much like tonight, though then Charlie'd spent near the whole damn <em> day </em> staring at Ben atop his horse, as he was) some weeks ago—Jackson pulling him aside; his urgent whisper, <em> He's gonna notice, you know</em>, part appalled, part confused, and maybe even part concerned. As if—what? As if Ben's gonna shoot Charlie if he notices his longing glances? As if Charlie cares what Jackson thinks he's caught him at? </p><p>His face screws up into an angry snarl. “I'm minding my own damn business, is what I'm doing”—he isn't—“just like you should be.” As <em> if </em> Jackson would’ve noticed something that Ben Wade hadn’t.</p><p>Jackson snorts. “That ain't what it looks like to m—”</p><p>“That’s enough now, boys.” Ben’s voice cuts in, calm but stern enough to brook no opposition. Charlie’s attention immediately snaps back to his previous subject of study. The pencil has stilled in his hand, the notebook now dangling loosely in the other, and his brows arch down in disapproval. </p><p>Charlie sags back against his saddle, arms crossing over his chest. “Sorry, boss,” he mutters, the apology soon after echoed from across the fire. </p><p>The thing is, Jackson might’ve noticed other times too, sure, but he's never gone and brought it up out in the open, in front of the whole crew like this. Charlie throws him another nasty glare, just to make a point. Whatever game he's playing at—trying to make him nervous, maybe—isn't gonna stand. Charlie's half a mind to give him a black eye, at the least, just for that. </p><p>He doesn't think on it long, though, because Ben is fixing him with a particularly thoughtful stare. It reminds Charlie an awful lot of the look Ben gets when he’s about to shove Charlie down onto his knees.</p><p>“Boss—” he starts, but Ben doesn’t let him finish.</p><p>“Charlie.” Ben stands, stretching “Since we’re all roused now anyway, I had a few things ‘bout this next job thought I might run by you.” </p><p>Charlie pastes on a crooked smile, before he can show his chagrin. “Sure thing, Boss," he says, then follows like the obedient lieutenant that he is.</p><p>Ben pauses, just on the edge of the fire’s ring of light, and glances back to where the rest of the crew is settling back in. “And Jackson,” he frowns, “Why don’t you do me a favor and take Charlie's good advice to heart.” <em> And mind your own business </em> is left unsaid, but it rings loud and clear nonetheless.</p><p>He leads Charlie to an outcropping of rock that leads into a narrow canyon, where they won't be seen, nor overheard. Then he rounds on him, quick and deadly just like always. "Getting a little obvious there, don't you think, Charlie?" His lips twist down.    </p><p>Charlie scowls—<em> Jackson, always sticking his nose where it don’t belong; questioning things that a man just doesn’t question.</em></p><p>Ben doesn't like that he doesn't answer, though. He catches his chin, fingers curling into his beard and tugging him forward, sharp and controlling, angling his face just how he wants it. </p><p>Charlie hisses at the pull, but lets himself be manhandled. He’s not quite sure if he's about to be dressed down or encouraged—maybe both—but Ben's got a look in his eyes and a firmness in his grip that tells Charlie he's just gonna have to be okay with it, either way.</p><p>There must be something in his expression, something all too revealing and raw, because Ben pauses in whatever point he was fixing to make and quirks his lips down in a little frown. </p><p>Charlie meets his eyes, tenses his jaw, tries to act like nothing happened, but he never was any good at hiding things from Ben. </p><p>“You like that, Charlie?” Ben's eyes follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, and Charlie feels it like the caress of a passing viper. “Bein’ pushed around?”</p><p>“No.” Maybe. <em> Only when it's you.</em></p><p>Ben <em> tsk</em>s in disapproval at the response, but says no more. Instead, he uses the leverage that he already has and jerks Charlie forward by the beard until their lips meet. The kiss is searing from the start, merciless and fierce, and Charlie opens to him as soon as he demands entrance, not taking control so much as keeping it. </p><p>When he finally pulls back, just enough that they both have room to breathe, Charlie looks half dazed. “That what you been thinking about all night?” Ben smirks, “Watchin’ me like you about ready to jump me? You know all ya had t’do is ask.”</p><p>Charlie grits his teeth. “I <em> am </em> ready to jump you.”</p><p>“Then what’re you waitin’ for, Charlie?”</p><p>Charlie only pauses a quick minute. Then he goes and does exactly what Ben knows he'll do—grabs a fistful of Ben’s shirt to yank him forward until their lips crash together again. It's just as rough and biting as the first, but this time Charlie's desperation bleeds through. His free hand shifts down to Ben's waist, undoing his belt and dropping it to the side to get at the fastenings of his trousers. </p><p>He works Ben's trousers open, then takes a quick glance around and drops to his knees in one fluid motion. He pulls Ben out and immediately wraps a hand around his length, shielding him from the shock of the cool night air.</p><p>Ben grunts at the motion, already filling out with just a few strokes. He buries his fingers into Charlie's thick hair and gives it a sharp tug. “I really shouldn't be encouraging you like this," he sighs.</p><p>Charlie glances up at him and grins. “Pro'ly not, no.”</p><p>“Well, then?”</p><p>Charlie goes about it with enthusiasm, if no great amount of skill. He licks a wet stripe down the length of Ben's shaft, slowly trailing the broad of his tongue from tip to base and back. He breathes deeply through his nose, savoring the musky scent, and slips just the head past his lips. His tongue teases at the slit before letting it swirl around the head, earning him a please groan from above, and then he eases more and more into his waiting mouth. To be fair, Charlie’s improved a good deal since he first found himself in this position; he doesn’t need to be told how Ben likes it, for starters. </p><p>Though—Ben hisses, hand digging more harshly into Charlie's scalp, as teeth glance against delicate skin. “Watch it, Charlie.”</p><p>Big, green eyes flick up to meet his—damn those eyes—but Charlie doesn't stop, doesn't pull off, doesn't slow down, just goes about it with a little more care, hollowing his cheeks as he starts to bob.</p><p>Ben's head tips back on a particularly eager suck. He stutters out a moan, but then grits his teeth. He's got something to <em> say,</em> and Charlie knows damn well that means he's gonna say it. “You know <em> I </em> don't judge you," he manages, "But don’t go bein’ so obvious about this in front of the boys.” Ben gasps again. “Mm, you know I can’t have that.”</p><p>Charlie pulls off, for half a second, sucking in a breath— “I know, Boss.” Except, he doesn’t. Truth is, Charlie doesn’t <em> care </em> if the gang gets suspicious and he doesn't get why Ben <em> does</em>. Let anyone of them try to say something, and he’ll show them what’s what—with a fist to the gut or some lead to the chest, whichever gets the point across. Lord knows he's come close enough with Jackson, on more’n one occasion. </p><p>Ben <em> hmm</em>s, like he knows just what Charlie’s thinking, but isn’t going to call him on it, ‘specially not when he wants that tongue to keep doing exactly what it’s doing. </p><p>Charlie let's it sit and goes back to work. He hollows his cheeks again and sinks down until he can feel Ben at the back of his throat. The grip in his hair tightens again, so he relaxes and let's it happen. Ben's first thrusts are shallow, mere involuntary twitches of his hips into that accommodating warmth, but Charlie's pliancy only spurs him on until he's fully fucking into his mouth. It makes Charlie's eyes water and sting as he tries to breathe and not gag. His own hips stutter forward at the abuse. Both hands are braced against Ben's thighs, just to keep himself steady, so he doesn't have a free hand to palm at his trousers the way he wants to.</p><p>After that, it doesn't take long. Ben grunts and forces himself as deep as he can, holding Charlie's head down, nose pressed to skin. He manages a few good swallows around the length, and then without further warning, Ben comes down his throat. </p><p>Charlie sputters and does his best to swallow, but his throat feels raw and used. Ben pulls out after just a moment, so he spits out the rest, coughing and trying to keep it out of his beard. </p><p>While Ben wipes himself clean and rearranges his mussed clothes, Charlie tries to catch his breath.  He's more worked up now than ever, but before he has a chance to recover, Ben rounds on him. Up ‘til now, Charlie has—by and large—found a sated Ben Wade to be an amenable one. Tonight he's not so sure. </p><p>The look in Ben's eyes is one of intent, but the rest of his face remains a stern mask. If Charlie hadn't spent so long watching him, he'd probably think he's about to die. </p><p>Ben stares down at him for a long moment, assessing and critical, before he offers him a hand up. Charlie takes it, but can't stop himself from gulping. </p><p>As soon as he's back on his feet, Ben shoves him backwards, making him stumble into the rocks behind them. Then Ben chuckles, stalking the few feet between them like the predator that Charlie knows he is. “Don’t worry; I’ma take care of you, too."</p><p>The tone of it makes Charlie scowl. He's achingly hard in his trousers, and Ben can surely tell from just a glance, but like Hell is he gonna admit it. He has his pride to maintain, afterall. “It ain’t like I get worked up just on sucking you”—it <em> is,</em> though—“I’ll manage just fine.”</p><p>Ben clicks his tongue. “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” he chastises, genuine disapproval coloring his tone, “Don’t lie to me, now; you never were a very good liar.”</p><p><em> Just not to you,</em> Charlie thinks. Ben’s always had too good a read on him. He can't muster up a real response, though, because suddenly Ben is crowded up in his space, so he’s half leaning into the rock at his back, half supported by the knee Ben’s gone and wedged between his thighs.</p><p>Ben smirks when he feels Charlie's erection up against his leg. "You don't go getting worked up just by using your mouth on me, that what you want me to think?" </p><p>Charlie still doesn't get a chance to answer. Ben shoves a hand down his trouser and grabs him, squeezing hard, then stripping him in rough, fast tugs. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but he's already so on edge, no matter how he denies it. Ben doesn’t kiss him again, even though he surely knows that Charlie wants him to. </p><p>After only a few moments, Charlie's frame goes taught, jerking once, twice more into Ben's hand, then he slumps back onto the rocks, unable to hold himself up for a long moment. </p><p>Ben chuckles, pulling his hand free and wiping it clean on Charlie's shirt. “Don’t go getting cozy now; you know I maintain you'd be better off finding someone of your own persuasion to do this with." He steps always with a sigh. “But the heart wants what the heart wants, I suppose.” He pats Charlie on the cheek, looking at him all amused, like he’s a child or a fool. “Love’s a funny thing like that. I just hope you don’t go wanting too much."</p><p><em> That </em> sparks more life back into Charlie. “What're you talking about, Boss?” He pushes himself back up and scowls. He puts up with a lot from Ben, but he won't be patronized. “<em>Love </em> don't got a thing to do with it.”</p><p> </p><p>Except— </p><p><br/>
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